


Fever Fatale

by ginamc



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:07:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1599383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginamc/pseuds/ginamc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trip becomes desperately ill and is fading with each day. T’Pol rushes to his side. While the doctors struggle to find a cure, T’Pol struggles to confront her feelings for Trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

T'Pol wandered past the dozens of shuttle passengers heading toward the gates. The occupants of the corridors were wearing face masks over their noses and mouths. The masks gave them a cadaverous appearance. Their faces were pale and ghostly, and their eyes were red-rimmed with dark circles surrounding them. It was disconcerting to look at, and the eerie silence made T'Pol feel vulnerable. She hadn't experienced this particular emotion in such volume since her use of trellium.

At last, she reached the San Francisco airport doors that led to the world outside. The noise that usually surrounded the city like a thick blanket was suppressed by uncharacteristic silence, giving the city a sepulchral air. The streets, usually crowded with humanoids rushing toward their differing destinations, were devoid of any living sentient being. The heavy clank of her heels on the sidewalk echoed between the buildings, sending a chill up her spine. Though it took some time, she finally reached the Zephram Cochrane Medical Center.

Upon entering the front room, she found herself surround by Human children sitting with their parents. She jumped slightly as the little girl next to her coughed. Turning, she watched with empathetic eyes as the girl's mother tipped some liquid down the child's throat. Feeling somewhat agitated by her surroundings, she moved toward the nurse's station and tried her best to wait patiently.

At last, one of the nurses noticed her and came to assist her. "May I help you, honey?" he asked. His brown eyeswere filled with pity and just a hint of kindness. His well-groomed dark hair hung softly about his head.

She arched an eyebrow. "Yes, I am looking for Charles Tucker the Third," she replied.

The nurse nodded. "Are you family?"

She hesitated before nodding. "I am his wife," she replied.

The bond they shared made this, in essence, true. The lie was necessary and would do no lasting harm. Mild surprise registered on his features before he smiled kindly and looked through the check-in records.

"He's on the third floor, in room 352," the nurse said.

She inclined her head. "Thank you." She then made her way toward the lift, and the doors closed behind her. "Level three," she instructed.

The thought of seeing Trip again after nearly three years apart was illogically unsettling. She couldn't comprehend why she was equally dreading and anticipating seeing him. Doubtless he would be angry with her for not returning to  _Enterprise_. She'd said that she would be permitted to do so. Little had she known that Koss's words were little more than a deception meant only to retrieve his honour from her previous dismissal of their betrothal.

Moments later, the lift arrived at the specified level and she exited, striding down the corridors toward room 352.

As she approached the room, she saw the senior bridgecrew—minus Trip—waiting outside. The captain and Ensign Sato were pacing while Doctor Phlox, Lieutenant Reed, and Ensign Mayweather were seated in chairs along the wall. Beside the door. Reed had his face buried in his hands, and she heard him draw in a deep, shaky breath. She paused in front of the lieutenant and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He started slightly and looked up, his worried eyes meeting hers. A weak smile crossed his lips, and she barely managed to contain the answering smile that threatened her hard-won appearance of control. T'Pol then turned to the captain and Ensign Sato, who had stopped their pacing and were now acknowledging her arrival. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. "I booked passage to return the moment I received thenews," she said. Archer nodded and there was a moment of silence between them. "Will he recover?"

Archer grinned wryly, avoiding her eyes. "They don't know the cause of the epidemic, and they can't find a cure until they do. All that they know is that his case is a little bit more advanced then the others." He paused. "We're all praying for him."

She nodded and bowed her head to hide the moisture in her eyes. Yet again, a momentary silence hung between them. "May I see him?" she asked.

Archer looked away and nodded. "The doctor said one at a time. He's slightly delusional and more than one visitor may confuse him," Archer replied.

T'Pol inclined her head in acknowledgement and walked to the rolling cart in the hallway by the door, reading the instructions for contact and respiratory isolation with a sinking heart. She donned gloves, a mask, and a gown and stepped through the doorway. She paused for a moment in order to regain control. She could sense him again through the bond. Her eyes closed as she took in the sensations of once again being connected to him on such a profound level. Fear was one of the many emotions coming to her through the bond. There was a unique color to them that allowed her to recognize that they were not her own. Trip needed her to be strong. He didn't need to exhaust his remaining energy feeling concern for her. She reached up a hand to wipe the moisture from the corners of her eyes before making her way slowly toward his bedside.

"T'Pol?" he called, his voice hoarse and strained.

She halted, sucking in a breath. His eyes weren't even open, yet he was aware of her. It must be the bond, she knew. He recognized her presence as though they'd never been parted. Her pulse and respiration increased and she felt slightly feverish.

"T'Pol?" he called again.

She moved toward him, the lingering scent of him that she had smelled before entering the room growing stronger with each step. At last, she reached his bedside and slid gracefully into the soft, cushioned chair next to it.

"I am here, Trip," she replied, laying one hand gently on top of his, fighting back the moisture gathering once again in her eyes.

His eyes opened instantly and he gazed at her as though he'd never seen her before. "Don't cry, T'Pol. Please," he whispered, reaching out to wipe the tears from her eyes. He stopped, as if he was reluctant to risk infecting her, but even without the touch, his presence was reassuring, even comforting. She could feel the hurt he was experiencing through the bond as well as the anger. She had expected as much, but she knew she would come to his side no matter the detriment to her own peace of mind.

He cleared his throat, looking suddenly awkward. "Why are ya here?"

Hesitating for a moment, she replied. "I heard that you were unwell and was concerned for you."

In the silence that followed, her gaze slid over his features. His skin had begun to wrinkle in the years since she'd last seen him, though he had aged with a grace that, to her, was unparalleled. Also, the hair at his temples was slightly greyer than she remembered, and she noted the formation of what humans referred to as crow's feet at the outer corners of his eyes. The warmth that had once filled his brilliant blue eyes was gone, replaced by the depth of his pain.

"Why did ya leave?" he choked.

She turned away for a moment, fighting to control her own emotional reaction. "For my duty and for my mother," she managed shakily.

He shook his head and sat forward in bed with a great deal of effort, trying to get her to look at him. "Ya said he was goin' ta let ya come back to  _Enterprise_  for a little while. Ya never came back."

Looking at her hands, she remained silent for several moments, unsure of how to respond. He could no doubt feel the strength of her regret through the bond, yet she couldn't bring herself to speak aloud how much she wished she'd stayed aboard  _Enterprise_  and how his absence from her life had plagued her dreams.

"T'Pol," he said softly, and she lifted her gaze to find Trip's eyes filled with emotion. "He doesn't know you're here, does he?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. He and I . . . are no longer joined," she replied, a note of relief in her voice. Looking directly into his eyes, she added. "He learned of my Pa'Nar Syndrome and ordered that the marriage be dissolved. He is now raising our daughter T'Lin with his mother's assistance."

Through the bond, she felt his sympathy. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

"As am I," she replied. "But only for the sake of our daughter. Koss is not the one to whom I am bound." Their gazes locked and held for several moments before she continued. "You, Trip. You are the one to whom I am bound."

He gazed at her, stunned. "Bound?"

She paused before explaining. "Yes. Our sexual encounter three years ago deepened a psychic bond that had begun forming as we grew more companionable."

His eyes grew wide as he attempted to take in the full implications of her words. As he was working out the puzzle in his mind, realization dawned on him. His anger followed quickly at its heels. "Ya knew about this," he accused, his tone angry. "Ya knew when ya decided ta stay with Koss."

"I did not decide…" she begun feebly, but he cut her off.

He glared at her. "The hell ya didn't!" he growled. "Ya told me he was goin' ta let ya come back. Ya wanted ta stay with him!"

She swallowed roughly. "Trip, he is not the one that I . . ." she began, trying to reason with him. She gasped aloud as the surge of anger and hurt she felt through the bond nearly brought her to her knees.

"Just get the hell out of my…," he began before trailing off into a coughing fit.

She stared at him, torn between the desire to hold him to her and the desire to run. The dam she'd constructed to hold back the flood of emotions within her crumbled and anger surged through her, consuming her. Glaring coldly at him, she stormed from the room, stripping gloves, mask and gown from her body in a single movement, shoving them into the waste receptacle, and shutting the door hard behind her. She strode quickly past the captain, who wore a stunned expression on his face. She didn't care that everyone was staring at her. She needed to be alone so that she could regain control.

Breathing heavily, seething, she found an empty room and closed the door behind her. She then collapsed into the chair by the window, offering a silent thank you for the heavy curtains covering the windows, which blocked any sunlight. The darkness that filled the little room reflected the darkness inside of her and brought her an odd comfort. Her breathing slowly returned to normal, and her control began to return.

Extricating herself from the chair, she lowered herself to the floor and sat cross-legged, attempting a light meditative state. Her eyes closed and she focused on the rhythm of her breathing, each breath slower and softer than the last until she was aware of nothing but a peace that had settled itself within her.

_Flames of dark red grew larger before her, and she begun to feel their heat as though the fire were burning within her. The flames continued to grow until the heat was almost unbearable. Slowly, the flames faded. But the heat did not. She saw a hand reach out and she closed her eyes, waiting anxiously to feel it against her skin. A shiver of need ran through her as he stroked her cheek, whispering her name. She opened her eyes to find Trip there before her, his chest bare, his lips so inviting. Her lips were millimeters from his when an urgent grip on her left arm brought her sharply out of her meditation._

"T'Pol," a voice called softly. Her eyes opened abruptly and Captain Archer was in front of her, looking directly into her eyes, his face millimeters from hers. "Are you alright?"

She hesitated, still slightly disoriented from being brought back so suddenly. "I'm fine," she replied, a slight growl in her tone.

Archer frowned in concern. "You sure aren't acting fine. What the hell happened?"

Her features became stony. "It's none of your concern," she said sharply, jerking her arm from his grip and striding toward the far wall, simply staring at it.

She felt his stare. Several long moments later she heard the door open and then close. Then she fell apart, collapsing into a heap on the floor, biting her lip to stop the sobs threatening to escape as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Her neural pathways were corroding quickly. She'd barely managed to keep it under control for these last few years. If Doctor Phlox didn't find a cure soon, it would be too late.

A shudder of fear ran up her spine as memories of the _Seleya_  incident ran through her mind. She would become like them, she knew, if the damage wasn't repaired or at least halted. Her hands shook as she hugged herself tightly, closing her eyes in an attempt to regain control. Moments later, she slipped into a fitful sleep as she sat leaning against the wall and was surrounded by the unconscious, nightmarish imaginings of her mind.

*  *  *

Despite their altercation the previous night, T'Pol once again found herself sitting masked, gowned and gloved at Trip's bedside, studying his unconscious form. Somewhere in the night, her control had returned and she had become even more determined that she would not allow his emotional displays to affect her. He was behaving like an infant in the midst of a temper tantrum, as he always did when a misfortune befell him. She couldn't allow him to invoke a reaction from her. She had to be the voice of logic.

He hadn't opened his eyes since she had entered the room, but she could sense through the bond that he wasn't asleep. Exercising careful control over her emotions, she sat beside him, waiting for him to speak to her. After several hours of this, her patience was severely tested, and yet she continued to wait patiently. If there was one thing she'd learned about him in the last few years, it was that his stubborn nature often overrode his logic, but also that he would concede in his own time.

As she waited, she attempted a light meditative state. She had found that, in addition to calming her, meditation seemed to cause time to pass more quickly. Her emotions still struggled against each other, but she found Trip's physical presence to be a comfort despite their displeasure with one another.

_Within moments, she had entered the white room within her mind and was slightly bewildered to find Trip there as well. When he caught sight of her, he rolled his eyes._

_"Peachy," he muttered. "Now I see her when I'm day-dreamin'."_

_She caught the muttered words and arched a brow tolerantly. "You are being obstinate and illogical. There is no need to treat me with such hostility. I was attempting to repair an error in judgment on my part."_

_Trip snorted. "'Error in judgment'? Which one? Makin' love with me or marrying Koss?"_

_She hesitated and, sensing that Trip was about to lash out at her again, cut him off before he could speak. "In completing my obligation to Koss, I was doing my duty. By . . ." She paused and, deciding that Trip's phrasing was most accurately used, continued. "...making love with you, I was…"_

_"Satisfying your curiosity," he drawled, his tone resentful. He looked up, meeting her gaze. "I heard the spiel the first time. But I still think that whole thing was a load of horseshit."_

_Her eyebrows arched slightly higher. "If you will allow me to finish…"_

_Trip sighed and nodded. "Yeah, go ahead. Might as well get it over with."_

_She inclined her head before continuing. "By making love with you, I was satisfying myself." His brow furrowed at the finished sentence and his gaze locked with hers. "The error in judgment I am referring to is not discussing the events of that evening with you afterwards as I should have. The thoughts that I was entertaining puzzled me, and it has taken me an extended period of time to understand my own actions. Additionally, until you fell ill, I was not certain about the extent of our bond."_

_He hesitated, simply staring at her for several moments before asking, "So what are ya sayin'? What is this bond thing anyway?"_

_Sensing that he would allow her to speak uninterrupted, she explained. By the time that she'd finished, he was gaping at her with a bewildered expression on his face. For several moments, he simply stared at her, unable to speak._

_"So . . ."he began slowly. "This thing . . . this bond. . . we can read each other's minds?"_

_She paused. "To say that we can sense one another's emotions and, with tremendous effort, exchange categorized audio and visual stimuli . . . memories . . . would be more accurate."_

_He frowned slightly. "Ya said somethin' about marriage . . ."_

_Again, she paused. "The bond that we have formed could be more accurately termed an early telsu bond. The closest equivalent in your language would be a ‘betrothal'. We are promised to one another."_

_He stared hard at her, and she could sense his smugness from having just been proven correct. She bowed her head slightly and closed her eyes. Her actions three years ago were still presenting their consequences to her to this day. "I apologize, Trip. I should have told you this long ago," she said softly. "My logic was flawed."_

_Trip grinned. "Darlin', my logic must be flawed, because I want you back, and you're trouble." He cupped her chin gently and lifted her face so that her gaze locked with his. "You're not goin' ta turn ‘round and run this time if ya get scared, right? And don't give me any of that ‘Vulcan's don't get scared' bullshit. If somethin's ever botherin' ya about us…about anythin'…come talk ta me and we'll work it out together. Ya can't outrun a hurricane, but ya can outsmart one."_

_She nodded and paused before leaning forward and brushing her lips against his. "We must get you well. Rest, telsu."_

_He smiled broadly. "I love ya, T'Pol." A soft laugh of pure joy escaped his lips as he leaned his forehead against hers, his warm breath making her lips tingle. "Good lord, I never thought I'd be able ta tell ya that. I love ya so much."_

_"And I you," she whispered._

******

An hour later, he awoke and felt the absence of her warm hand atop his. He figured she must have gone to get a bite to eat as she hadn't left his side all morning. A goofy grin spread over his features, and he felt warm on the inside. He hadn't felt this content since the cold, rainy days back home when he'd lain snuggled under the covers pouring over engineering manuals as the rain pitter-pattered against the roof and Bedford lay on the bed begging for a scratching behind the ears.

T'Pol loved him. His heart was swollen fit to burst at the mere thought that she'd said three words that he'd been longing to hear since Christmas three years ago. Nothing else seemed to matter, not even this damned sickness that was slowly draining his remaining energy.

He sat up, coughing harshly as he reached blindly for the tissue beside the bed. When at last he gripped it, he pulled it toward him and covered his mouth, letting loose a few more harsh coughs. Upon looking down at the tissue a moment later, he saw a mucus-textured spot of blood and his eyes widened, his heart racing.

Not a few moments later, T'Pol burst into the room looking worried. She pulled up the mask dangling around her neck and collapsed into the chair next to him, still pulling on her gloves. "What is it?" she asked breathlessly, taking his hand tightly in hers.

His brows furrowed. "What…?"

"You experienced panic a moment ago," she began.

He nodded, stunned. "How the hell did you…?" He trailed off, realizing that he must have somehow sent his panic to her. Clearing his throat, he winced slightly at how raw it was from coughing. "Just a sore throat from all that coughin' is all. I didn't mean ta scare ya."

She looked at him disbelievingly for a moment before inclining her head. "It is all right?"

He smiled weakly. "I'm glad ya cared enough ta come check on me, though," he added. A tense silence hung in the air between them before Trip broke it. "So . . . do they have any idea what's goin' on with me yet?"

She gazed at him, her expression thoughtful. "They have informed us that many are suffering from a similar ailment. Were it not for your normal body temperature, they would diagnose the ailment as a cold."

He nodded. "My granddad told me about a bout of the flu he had. This sure isn't anythin' like that."

"They are unsure as to what is causing your illness," she continued. "Until they can find the reason for your body's improper functioning, they will be able to offer neither a diagnosis nor any sort of treatment."

He paused, staring at her. "So what's goin' ta happen? Am I dyin'?"

Her throat tightened and she inclined her head, not meeting his eyes. "It's highly probable . . . if a treatment cannot be found soon.... that you..." The words came out as a breathy whisper. She couldn't bring herself to complete the thought.

His eyes widened and a jumble of emotions surged through the bond to her. He was angry, afraid, confused, and stunned. Drawing a deep breath, she looked up, meeting his gaze. She could see the emotion in his eyes as well. Usually a brilliant blue, they were now a stormy gray-blue.

She was unsure how to comfort him, as any of the things that she could say would perhaps seem callous and illogical. For humans, there was no comfort in death unless one believed in a higher deity who would look after the soul following its departure from the physical body. Even then, they were discomforted by the idea of leaving their loved ones behind.

"We will do all that it is within our power to do to find a treatment," she said softly. "You have my assurance."


	2. Chapter 2

Admiral Valdore Kihai Dorek`a paced the room, his brow furrowed in thought. He’d been awaiting news of success for three weeks and was beginning to fear that his undercover agents had either been met with resistance or had been captured. If the plan failed, the Rihannsu fleet would be put at greater risk. If the Humans continued building more ships, the fleet would be outmanned as well as outgunned.

His heart skipped a beat when he heard the familiar beep-beep that signaled an incoming communication. Without pausing to think, he hit the ‘enter’ key and Fleet Commander Khoal Rhehiv’je Khellian’s large, angular face appeared on the screen. Though his facial featuresportrayed no emotion, there was a twinkle in his dark eyes that caused Valdore to smile.

“Our attempt was successful?” Valdore asked.

Khoal’s lips turned up and he nodded. “Very successful indeed. The virus has worked much better than we hoped. A majority of the Humans will be dead within weeks.”

Valdore paused. “What are the odds that they will find the cure before then?”

“Even if they find the cure within the next 9 or 10 days, estimates show that nearly half of the targets will have died,” Khoal replied.

Valdore nodded. “Is the disease affecting any species other than Humans?”

Khoal shook his head. “No,” he replied. “According to our undercover agents, only Human cases have been reported.”

“Good. Contact me if there are any changes.”

Khoal inclined his head and then the screen went black. Valdore leaned back in his chair with a gleeful smirk crossing his lips. It seemed that they would win this war for supremacy yet.

*  *  *

Trip had fallen asleep approximately an hour ago, though it had taken an extended period for him to do so. T’Pol was concerned for him. He’d accepted the news more rationally than she’d expected. Normally, he would have stubbornly insisted that he was going to be fine and that this wasn’t going to defeat him. Instead, he’d lain there and said nothing.

It discomforted her to think that he might have expected such an outcome. It was the only logical explanation of his behavior.

She turned when she heard the door to the room open and found the Captain standing in the doorway. Her gaze returned to Trip and she paused for several moments before moving toward the door.

Once outside, she turned toward him and met his gaze. “My behavior towards you last evening was illogical. I apologize,” she said softly.

Archer paused thoughtfully before nodding. “We’re all worried about him.” Her gaze once again fell on Trip, who was shifting slightly in his sleep on the bed inside the room. “Have they mentioned anything further to you in regards to the illness?”

Grimacing, he shook his head. “They don’t even know enough to tell us how much time Trip has left.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, his frustration evident. “There hasn’t been an epidemic like this in over a century. Starfleet has teams out all over the world investigating everything from major manufacturing plantsto water supplies, and so far they haven’t found a damn thing that could be causing this.”

She was silent for a moment before asking, “Do they know where the pathogen originated?”

He nodded. “They think that the pathogen may have originated in the Bahamas,” he replied.

Again, she paused. “Was Trip in close proximity to the area of origin at any point before he became ill?”

Archer nodded. “Yes. He and his family went there on vacation about two months ago. But not everyone who’s caught this sickness has been to the Bahamas.”

“Then it is possible there are multiple points of origin,” she observed.

She noted the grim expression on Archer’s face at her comment. If her theory was correct, then it would be far more difficult to isolate possible causes much less contain the epidemic. “Has anyone in his family fallen ill?”

He shook his head. “Not yet, but I’m worried about his father. Charlie’s heart attack a month ago left his heart weak. Catching something like this could kill him.”

She nodded, pausing. “Are you well?”

He grinned wryly. “I’m fine. It seems like a majority of the people I know are catching this. And in the briefing this morning, they told us that consulates around the world are reporting 4,000 new cases every day. It’s been like this for four weeks. When the first case was reported, the doctors thought it was just a variation of the flu, but the victims didn’t develop a fever until nearly a week after the first symptoms. There have been nearly 120,000 cases reported so far worldwide and nearly 9,000 of those have been fatal.”

As she was about to reply, Phlox came striding toward them. His gaze locked instantly with hers and she arched a brow. “Is there further news, Doctor?” she inquired.

He shook his head. “No, but might I speak with you for a moment alone?”

She inclined her head, glancing at Archer before following Phlox into a room two doors down. Once they were both inside, he closed the door behind them.

“What is it you wished to speak with me about?”

Phlox smiled, reaching into his pocket. “I have found a way to stop the damage to your neural pathways. It should prevent emotional situations from becoming too overwhelming. However, the dosage only lasts for six hours,” he cautioned.

“Have you not succeeded in finding a cure?” she queried, brow furrowed.

“Not yet.” He paused. “I am, however, corresponding with a Vulcan elder who believes that the damage can be repaired the same way that it was caused.” As she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off. “The procedure is dangerous. If it is not performed correctly, it can cause more harm. The elder has asked that we give him more time to research the procedure.”

T’Pol inclined her head and then tilted it to the right, allowing Phlox to press the hypospray into the side of her neck. The device hissed softly and she felt her anxiety dissipating.

“Now, I want you to get six hours of rest in acomfortable bed. Doctor’s orders,” he added sternly.

She hesitated, about to dispute his order, but she thought better of it. “Thank you, Doctor,” she replied, inclining her head.

With one last glance at him, she turned, headed for the door and slipped out quietly.

*  *  *

The next morning, T’Pol sat in the hospital cafeteria sipping her tea as she watched the latest news broadcast concerning the epidemic.

“With the number of reported cases of this mysterious epidemic increasing each day, Earth citizens are growing more concerned as to just what measures are being taken to contain it,” the young blonde reporter said. “We’ll now go live to Gillian Preston, who is reporting from Nagoya, Japan.”

Within moments, the image on the screen switched to one of a petite red-haired woman wearing a facemask and standing with her back facing the Noritake Garden. A few Asians walked behind her also wearing facemasks.

“Thanks Connie,” Gillian began. “As you can see behind me, the streets of Nagoya are nearly deserted and those that are walking outside are wearing face masks. This area was anything but calm yesterday afternoon when Terra Prime protestors rallied in front of the building behind me.”

The image then cut to one of the rallies the previous day, showing a large crowd of people shouting and throwing everything from rocks to smoke bombs at the law enforcement officers who were fighting to control the situation.

“What began as a peaceful assembly soon turned into a full scale riot. The violence resulted in over 100 injuries, 5 fatalities, and 21 people who are still in critical condition. Several of the protestors claim that our off world allies are to blame for this epidemic.”

The image then changed to show a middle-aged man waving his arms wildly as he spoke. “I’m telling you these aliens created this virus to annihilate the Human race so that they could colonize our planet! Paxton warned us that this would happen! But those idiots at Starfleet Headquarters insisted on painting a target on us by doing all of this exploring bull-hockey! If we’d listened to Terra Prime in the first place, we wouldn’t be in danger of extinction!”

Admiral Leonard then appeared on the screen addressing a large audience inside the Starfleet headquarters main conference room. “Starfleet officials, however, are of a different opinion,” came Gillian’s voice in the background.

The audio changed to Admiral Leonard’s speech. “We’re investigating everyone and everything that has arrived on Earth in the last two months and as of yet, there is no evidence to indicate that this virus is extraterrestrial in origin. Until a vaccination can be produced, we ask that the citizens stay calm. Additionally, by Presidential order, Earth is now under Level 5 quarantine. No one is to leave Earth under any circumstances. Any party or parties caught doing so will be put into lockdown at the nearest secure facility.”

Gillian came back on the screen and paused for a moment before continuing. “Despite this order, fear has driven many to hire private pilots to take them as far from Earth as possible and some have indeed made it past Starfleet’s tight security. As the hunt for those who have managed to thus far evade authorities continues, Starfleet fears the worst should this epidemic spread beyond Earth.”

Admiral Leonard’s image again came onto the screen. “We have no idea whether this virus is specific to Humans or whether it can infect other species,” he said. “If this affects other species as well, failure to quarantine Earth could result in an interstellar pandemic.”

“Gillian Preston, reporting live from Nagoya, Japan.”

The young blonde appeared on the screen several moments later. “Thank you, Gillian. Coming up, Minister Nathan Samuels speaks about the epidemic and the symptoms those who are infected display.”

*  *  *

_T’Pol looked urgently around her, scarcely noticing the decor of the room in which she sat. She needed Trip. The fire inside of her was growing stronger, and her thoughts were becoming more erratic with each passing moment. She longed for him to posses her and to fill her as he had three years ago. Their mating had been heady and rough, as months of sexual tension had exploded into an unquenchable hunger that their coupling that night hadn’t nearly satiated._

_The power of his kiss had driven her wild with desire. Just the memory of it was enough to pry soft sounds of hunger from her lips. The furnace inside of her burned hotter and she found herself unable to bear it._

_She opened the door, looking frantically up and down the hallway. There was no one in her range of vision. Desperately, she stumbled toward his room. By her estimation, it was very early morning, perhaps 0200 hours. The lights were dimmed, and the only humans in sight were a couple of nurses in the lounge sipping coffee._

_At last, she entered the room, closing the door softly behind her. She froze, staring at him as he lay on the bed. His eyes were wide open and his gaze locked with hers. Hunger reflected in his darkened blue eyes. His nostrils flared in anticipation. He no longer looked ill and the blatant desire in his expression made it difficult for her to breathe._

_She opened her mouth to speak. Before the words could pass her lips, he had her pinned to the door with his mouth covering hers, the assault rough and passionate._

_“Want ya…want ya bad,” he growled, barely able to string the words together._

_Any semblance of control she’d regained over the fever building within her fled and she kissed him roughly, her nails digging deep into his scalp. His hands wandered feverishly over every inch of her, dragging heavy moans from deep in her throat. Her hands slid to the small of his back and she pulled him tightly against her, desperate to have him buried inside of her._

_Panting heavily, she ripped the hospital gown he wore in half and yanked it from his body. Her eyes burned with arousal as her hands slid over his unclothed form. She felt the tension in every muscle from his broad, shapely shoulders to his hard, well-defined abs. His arousal stood at attention, the tip dripping with pre-cum. The sight sent a frizzling need rushing through her veins. Again, their mouths collided, and her hot tongue dove past his partially open lips into his mouth, drawing a lusty groan of ecstasy from his throat._

She started awake and then looked up at his face. He slept on despite the fever that racked his body as the virus overran his immune system. T’Pol extended a gloved hand and brushed the blonde hair back from his sweat-covered forehead.

The fever had set in early this morning and had persisted for a few hours, at last calming an hour ago with the assistance of a fever reducer. She removed her hand and reached for a ceramic bowl of water that a nurse had placed on the bedside table. Lifting a soaking rag from it, she wrung out the excess water before touching it to his forehead to wipe away the sweat.

He shuddered slightly as the cool rag came in contact with his skin, but relaxed as the coolness faded slightly. A quiet groan passed his lips and he swallowed roughly. When she pressed the rag to his throat, he sucked in a breath and then released a slight whimper at the cold against the rawness of his throat.

Her throat tightened at his pained expression and she extended her other hand to stroke his cheek with the tips of her fingers. Suddenly, she recalled a Vulcan melody that her mother had sung to her father when he fell ill. Reluctantly, she began to sing the words. She sang softly at first, but gradually grew more confident.

_La’ du ti pakik na’run, Limuk ves u’ asal yel, Us’oth ak wuh’wak bosh t’mene, i’ pasik eh ras-kur;_

_Pa’ulidauk’ mau pon eh pal, Ha’kiv to’ovau wonil eh pen, Puk-tor fi’ kyi’i k’diwa Sarlah pla’ha-kel._

“T’Pol,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Shh,” she replied soothingly as she dabbed at the sweat covering his forehead. “I am here, Trip.”

His eyes opened and he looked at her from beneath heavy lids. “Have they found a cure?”

She paused. “No,” she replied honestly. “Not yet.”

He nodded weakly, closing his eyes. “How’s everyone else?”

She avoided his gaze as she dipped the rag in the bowl and wrung it out again. “Ensign Sato has begun to experience symptoms.”

He grimaced slightly. “Malcolm? The Cap’n?”

“Neither Lieutenant Reed nor the Captain have shown any signs of the illness thus far.”

He reached for her gloved hand, grasping it tightly. “And you? Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I am fine. It appears the Doctor and myself are unaffected by the illness. There are indications that this illness only affects Humans.”

“But you said that not everyone has been infected,” he countered.

“Yes, I did,” she confirmed. “The doctors have made progress in diagnosing the disease. It would appear that the severity of the illness depends on the victim’s blood type. The A blood type is the most severely affected while the O blood type is not affected at all.”

He frowned. “I have the A blood type, don’t I?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You were unaware of your blood type?”

He sighed. “No. I never needed ta know. It was all there in my medical history.” He paused. “What about Hoshi?”

“Ensign Sato has the AB blood type,” she replied. “The illness will require longer to completely over-run her immune system.”

“Is she going ta be all right?”

T’Pol paused. “I do not know, Trip. The doctors are doing all that they can to find a cure.”

Silence hung in the air between them for a moment before his gaze locked with hers. “T’Pol…” he began.

She put a finger to his lips to halt his words. “Do not give up hope, Trip. They will find a cure. You will be fine.” Trip’s gaze dropped from hers and he nodded, but she could sense his doubt through the bond. “Trip.” Again, his eyes met hers. “You will be fine,” she said more forcefully.

He stared at her, reaching out to grasp her gloved hand with his. “I want to be fine, T’Pol. But there aren’t any guarantees. Not when it comes ta things like this.”

T’Pol felt a brief flicker of anger and bit off a Vulcan curse, her grip on his hand tightening. “There is a Human proverb, Trip. ‘Life is like love—all logic is against it, and all healthy instinct is for it.’ Do not give up. They will find a cure.”

Trip smiled and nodded, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand. “I’ll try.”

 *  *  *

T’Pol sat in the waiting room, staring at the cup of mint tea that she’d picked up from the refectory a half-hour ago. Since then, the tea had grown lukewarm and quite unappealing. Her thoughts, however, were focused on Trip and how he was doing in her absence. When Doctor Phlox had given her the most recent of her injections an hour ago, he’d insisted that she eat a solid meal.

“Vulcans can go for an extended period of time without sustenance,” she’d reminded him.

But Phlox’s expression had become very stern, insisting that she ingest a meal. It would, at least, distract her temporarily from Trip’s life-threatening situation. When he had asked for her word, she had prevaricated; she didn’t feel hungry. No doubt Phlox would discover that she hadn’t followed through on his order, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to consume sustenance while Trip lay in bed, dying.

She ran her tongue around her lips and encountered a salty drop of moisture. She lifted a hand to her face, searching for the origin. Her cheeks were wet, and it was then that she realized she’d been crying. The tears had been streaming down her face without her even being aware of them. She wiped away the wet trails then returned her gaze to the half-hour-old cup of tea.

These last few weeks had been the most taxing of her life. First, she’d lost her daughter to a prejudiced husband, and now she was slowly losing the only man she’d ever cared for to a fatal illness. She didn’t know if she could maintain her sanity if she lost Trip. Without him, she would have nothing left to soothe her shattering heart.

An echo of panic raced through her mind. She sensed that something was wrong. Immediately abandoning her tea, she raced toward Trip’s room, without regard for the people she jostled along the way.


	3. Chapter 3

As she drew closer to Trip’s room, she quickened her pace when she heard his hoarse cries growing louder. He was calling out for his sister, Elizabeth. T’Pol’s heart raced as she realized that he must have been experiencing the nightmares regarding her death again. T’Pol rounded the corner and saw several doctors rush into his room. Her control shattered into a million pieces, and she ran the remaining distance to his room, slowing only as she crossed the threshold of the doorway, then moving toward his bed, only to find her way blocked.

“Trip!” she shouted, fighting against the nurses that were holding her back. “Trip!”

The nurses were joined by two security guards, all of whom at last managed to force her back into the hallway. One nurse then released her grip on T’Pol’s arm, closing the door behind them.

“My husband is experiencing a nightmare,” T’Pol pleaded. “I must see him. Please let me see him.”

The nurse’s gaze locked with T’Pol’s, sympathy shining in her chocolate brown eyes. “His fever is back, Mrs. Tucker, and he’s hallucinating. He seems to think that this Lizzy is in danger.”

T’Pol felt a lump growing in her throat as Trip’s frantic cries echoed in her ears. “He lost his sister, Elizabeth, in the attack on Earth four years ago.”

The nurse froze. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized—“ T’Pol heard Trip cry out one last time before falling silent. “They’ve just given him a sedative to keep him from hurting himself,” the nurse explained at the concerned expression on T’Pol’s face.

T’Pol’s lips tightened slightly at the thought of Trip causing himself harm and she nodded. “I—I’ll be in thewaiting room—if his condition changes.” Unable to bear the silence that blanketed the corridor following her statement, she strode toward the elevator.

Once inside, she leaned against the back wall and allowed the tears to flow freely down her cheeks. All of the muscles in her body ached and she felt as though her heart had been cut from her chest.

A few moments later, she registered the elevator doors opening and felt a hand on her arm. She looked up to find Archer staring down at her with a pained expression. Embarrassed and angry, she turned away in an attempt to hide her tear-covered cheeks. He gripped her chin gently, forcing her to look at him.

“T’Pol, what is it?” he asked. She stayed silent. He looked into her eyes and grimaced at the pain he saw in them. “It finally hit home today, didn’t it?”

T’Pol gave him a quizzical look, unsure as to his meaning. “I do not understand,” she managed.

“Trip’s illness,” Archer replied. “You’ve finally realized just how serious it is—that we could lose him.”

T’Pol’s features tightened and she nodded. “Yes.”

Archer wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She was startled at first by the very Human gesture, but then gradually relaxed and accepted his hug. After they had pulled apart, she realized just how much she’d needed the reassurance that her captain and friend had offered her.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

She nodded and pushed away from the elevator wall, straightening her blouse. “I will be fine.”

Archer pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. She took it, nodding her gratitude before dabbing at her reddened eyes and wet cheeks. “You’re sure you’re going to be all right?” he asked again, squeezing her hand. She arched an eyebrow in confirmation and he smiled weakly. “Okay. Do you have a ride back to the place where you’re staying?”

“I don’t need a ride, Captain,” she replied. “I’m staying at the Vulcan Compound. It is only a short walk from here.”

“Then I’ll walk you back.” T’Pol opened her mouth to protest, but Archer cut her off. “It’s dark and this may beSan Francisco, but it’s still dangerous for a woman to be walking around at night alone, especially a Vulcan woman and especially given the rise in xenophobic activity. Terra Prime still hasn’t cooled down, T’Pol, and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

She hesitated slightly stunned for a moment before nodding. “But I must speak with Doctor Phlox about Trip’s—“

Archer shook his head. “Phlox knows to contact me if there’s any change.”

She stared straight ahead for several moments before calling out, “Level One.” The elevator doors closed and the enclosed box then began moving toward ground level.

*  *  *

Later that day, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed stood outside of 1044 North Maple, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to watch the setting sun. Harris had contacted him a few days earlier saying that he had information regarding the pandemic illness that seemed to be spreading like wildfire and had insisted that Reed meet him in the alleyway behind Kat’s Place.

Reed had been tempted to ignore his former CO’s message due to what had occurred the last time Harris had sought his help. Not only had Reed deliberately interfered with  _Enterprise_ ’s rescue of Doctor Phlox, he’d lost Captain Archer’s trust. But when the days since Harris had contacted him had shown little progress in finding a cure and Hoshi had become ill as well, Reed had begun rethinking his position. At last, he’d come to the conclusion that Harris’s information could be the only chance for Trip and Hoshi.

“Glad you could make it, Lieutenant,” a voice said behind him.

Reed turned quickly, prepared to fight until he realized that it was only Harris. Reed grimaced, hating how easily the man could sneak up on him without him being aware of it.

“You said you had information regarding the virus,” Reed replied, his tone grave.

Harris nodded. “I do.”

Several moments of silence passed and Reed was becoming very agitated. “I don’t have time for your games, Harris,” Reed bit out.  _My wife and my best friendare dying._ Harris’s expression shifted slightly and Reed knew at that moment that Harris expected something in return. “There are people’s lives at stake, for God’s sake! This is not the time for this shit!”

“I’m perfectly aware of that, Lieutenant,” Harris replied coolly.

Reed grunted in annoyance. “What in the bloody hell do you want this time?”

“The Director needs agents to look into possible origins for the virus and you’re the best we have for that job,” Harris replied.

Reed hesitated. “Harris, my wife is—“

Harris nodded. “I know. I understand that, which is why when I recommended you, I tried to convince the Director to keep your assignment local. Your investigation shouldn’t take you from here for very long.”

Reed stared at the man, slightly stunned by the uncharacteristic kindness. Harris’s mask had dropped for just a moment and in that time Reed had caught a glimpse of the ghosts in his ex-CO’s past. “What’s my objective?”

Harris smiled and inclined his head, then producing a data PADD. “These are records of every ship that has arrived and departed from spaceports worldwide for the last two months. Your job will be to trace the virus’s point of origin.”

Reed frowned. “Starfleet hasn’t been able to trace it. What makes you think that I’ll be any more successful?”

“We have some information that might help,” Harris began. “The virus is undetectable for a short period before the infection actually sets in.”

“How is it transmitted?” Reed asked.

Harris paused. “We haven’t been able to uncover that yet, but we have a couple of theories. One is that it’s an airborne virus transmitted via spores that are invisible to the naked eye,” he offered. “It’s logical considering the respiratory problems that the victims suffered prior to death. But there was also evidence of a foreign body in their blood stream.”

Reed’s brow furrowed. “If it is a blood-borne illness—“he began. He paused before continuing. “My Aunt Sherry brought home an article from Saint Giles Hospital in Southwark when I was a lad. I believe it was regarding the history of the Human Immunodeficiency Virus. I recall it mentioning that HIV could have begun in Africa with the hunting and eating of infected apes. Is it possible that something similar could have happened with this virus?”

Harris nodded. “There are similarities.”

“But the food supplies have been checked a dozen times over,” Reed countered. “They didn’t find a thing to suggest that it was transmitted through contaminated meat products.”

“At this point, Lieutenant—“ Harris began. “—nothing is out of the realm of possibility.”

In the blink of an eye, Harris was gone. Reed looked again at the data PADD in his hands, a look of determination crossing his features. Despite his doubts that the contaminant was passed through the food supply, it was his only lead and the most likely place to start.

*  *  *

T’Pol stepped from the elevator, moving quietly toward Trip’s room, carrying a PADD containing the latest Theodore Bergstein novel, with the intention of reading to him. Perhaps it would give him something else upon which to focus his mind.

Suddenly, she heard wrenching sobs coming from the room that she was passing. She stopped and, despite her conscience prodding at her to give the occupants their privacy, she couldn’t turn away from the sight of the young woman at the bedside of an older woman who appeared to be dying. Neither occupant was aware that they were being watched and therefore neither acknowledged T’Pol’s presence.

“I don’t want you to die, mama,” the young woman sobbed. “Please don’t leave me.”

The older woman brushed several strands of hair away from the younger woman’s eyes and smiled weakly. “You’ll be just fine, Emily. Bill will take good care of you.”

Emily shook her head. “No he won’t, mama. He doesn’t care what happens to me. I’m not his daughter.”

“He will, Emily,” the older woman whispered. “He’s an honorable man. He’ll take care of you.”

“Honorable?!” Emily spat, her features tightening anger. “How can you say that after what he did to you!?”

The older woman sighed. “Oh, Emily. It’s very, very complicated. There’s so much that you don’t understand.”

Emily snorted. “What is there to not understand? He had sex with another woman in our home—in the marital bed that the two of you had shared for five years!” Upon seeing the hurt that her bluntness was causing her mother, Emily’s features softened and the tears began anew. “Oh, mama. You don’t deserve this,” she whispered. “It’s not fair.”

“Sometimes things don’t quite turn out the way we plan, little one,” the older woman rasped. She let out several harsh coughs before continuing. “I want you to promise me something.”

“Anything,” Emily whispered, grasping her mother’s hand tightly. “Anything, mama.”

“Promise me that you’ll apply to the Academy and that you’ll do whatever it takes to get that posting aboard the _Legacy_  that you’ve always wanted.”

Emily’s lower lip trembled as she fought the heart-wrenching cries threatening to tear from her throat. “But mama—“ she protested.

The older woman’s grip on her daughter’s hand tightened. “Promise me,” she rasped insistently.

“I promise,” Emily said hoarsely, her throat tightening painfully.

The older woman smiled slightly before her eyes slid slowly closed and the loud blaring of the life support machines filled the room. Emily threw herself on top of her mother, hugging her tightly, as torturous cries of loss tore from her throat. “Mama, no! Please don’t leave me! Please mama!” the young woman screamed hoarsely.

T’Pol continued down the hallway as she heard nurses running toward the room, tears sliding down her cheeks as the young woman’s screeches of pain grew louder.

Suddenly, T’Pol was back on Vulcan, holding her dying mother in her arms. T’Les had insisted that T’Pol come to class with her that day to share her experiences aboard the Human ship with the reserved, but eager pupils of T’Les’s Intergalatic Relations class in hopes of getting T’Pol’s mind off of T’Pol’s not-so-calm home life. Not an hour later, a bomb had been snuck into the building by a Rigelian exchange pupil undetected and it was that bomb that had turned the classroom in which T’Les had taught to nothing more than a collection of rubble.

_T’Pol’s throat tightened and her heart raced as she watched the life draining from her mother’s once expressive eyes. T’Les’s skin grew cold to the touch as her heart slowed and her breaths became more labored. At last, T’Les’s eyes glazed over and T’Pol felt her heart shatter into a million little pieces. “Mother,” T’Pol whispered over and over, but there was no response._

_Unable to speak, T’Pol hugged her mother’s limp body to her tightly staring sightlessly ahead at the open skies that had once been blocked by the west wall. The suns began to set and darkness overwhelmed the world around her._

T’Pol took a deep breath and shook the memory from her thoughts, continuing toward Trip’s room.


	4. Chapter 4

Phlox eyed the tip of the dropper carefully to ensure that he didn't add too much of the hydrochloride. He squeezed just a little bit harder on the rubber end and the drop departed the little plastic tube. It then landed with a soft plop in the liquid within the test tube.

The liquid in the test tube turned green and Phlox frowned. He shook the test tube slightly, but the liquid remained green.

"What is it, Doctor?"

Phlox turned toward the young blonde nurse, his expression grim. "The Cruor Virus."

*  *  *

Archer stared blankly at Phlox for a moment. "Cruor Virus?"

Phlox nodded. "Otherwise known as 'blood poison'. I have never come across a case myself, of course, as it is very rare. A breakout occurred within a Denobulan colony a several years ago. My second father, Barzai, was able to produce a vaccine; but not before a third of the population was decimated by the plague."

"So you can reproduce this cure? It'll save Trip-and the others?" Archer queried, hope in his tone.

Phlox paused. "That, Captain, is my dilemma. I could easily request Barzai's research from the Denobulan Medical Archives committee; however, the virus has been re-engineered. It will take time to restructure the vaccine to attack the mutated virus."

 _'I may not be able to restructure it in time._ ' The unspoken words dangled in the air like a pesky mosquito that was determined to taste the sweet nectar of fear coursing through his veins.

Archer heard footsteps at the far end of the hallway and turned to find T'Pol entering Trip's room. He then returned his attention to Phlox. "Please try, Doctor. For Trip's sake, please try."

*  *  *

T'Pol's heart tightened a little each moment she was forced to watch her ashalik fight for his life in the bed before her. She brushed his sweat-soaked hair from his temples and slid her hand down to cup his cheek.

He leaned into her touch and a feeling of peace flooded her. Trip's lips turned up slightly in a minute smile and whispered words of love wove themselves through her senses.

She was so absorbed in the sensations that she didn't register the hand on her shoulder at first.

"T'Pol," a man whispered.

Her eyes snapped open and she turned to find the Captain standing behind her.

"T'Pol," he whispered, a smile sliding across his features. "There's news."

Her heart beat a rapid tattoo against her ribcage as she stood and followed him from the room. That smile could only mean one thing. They'd found a cure.

*  *  *

Trip awoke sometime later, confused. He couldn't remember how he'd come to be in a hospital bed. He coughed harshly, groaning at the soreness this gesture caused in his throat.

Within moments, T'Pol rushed into the room clothed in her quarantine gear.

"It's all right, telsu," she soothed, rubbing his forehead with a cold, moist cloth. "I'm here."

The moment their gazes locked, he recalled everything. He smiled wanly, attempting to sit up. She laid a hand on his chest and he stilled.

"Remain still," she whispered. "You are very ill."

He nodded and sank back down onto the uncomfortable pallet. He grimaced as pain shot through his upper back.

"You'd think that with all the funding this place gets from the government they could buy more comfortable beds," he joked.

He felt her amusement through their bond.

His smile faded. "How long?" he asked somberly.

She shook her head, brushing several sweat-soaked strands of hair from his face. "Phlox has discovered the virus causing your illness. He's preparing a vaccine as we speak."

"How long will it take to make the vaccine?" Trip asked weakly.

She paused. "We don't know."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "So he might not have it finished in time."

"He's doing all he can, Trip," she whispered.

He nodded. "I know."

To her surprise, she noted the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. A feeling she recognized from her own experiences as fear flooded through the bond. For the first time since her arrival, she didn't know what to say to calm him. It hurt her deeply to see the husband of her heart in so much pain. The guilt and the helplessness welled up inside her as she felt drops of moisture sliding down her cheeks.

She clasped his hand in hers. "Time is a path that stops only when one chooses to stop it, telsu. My father once told me that only the individual can choose when their time ends."

He wanted so much to kiss her. The moment was perfect. But he couldn't risk infecting her.

"A time will come when we may do so all you wish," she replied, his desire igniting a similar flame within her. "Don't give up."

*  *  *

Phlox closely examined the blood sample on the slide, watching as the virus invaded the red blood cells with ease. He increased the magnification and noted the virus's unique markers. There was no difference in the virus's behavior pattern when compared with the Cruor virus. If not for the rather unusual combination of symptoms, the virus would have been impossible to differentiate from the original.

"Anything?" the nurse asked.

Phlox shook his head. "There are no visible differences. We'll need to do a more in-depth analysis of the virus's effects on the Human body in order to isolate a potential cure."

*  *  *

Trip watched from the beach as the sun slowly sunk below the horizon. He smiled and hugged the woman in his arms closer. He felt her shiver and their gazes locked. To his surprise, he found himself looking into T'Pol's deep chocolate-colored eyes.

_Without a word, he lowered his head to hers and captured her lips in a tender kiss. He pulled back slightly, still close enough to her to feel her warm breath on his lips. Their lips met again, the kiss more ardent._

_He groaned softly when she slid her tongue past his lips and knotted it with his tongue. His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. The kiss was intoxicating and he couldn't get enough. The sugary taste of her lips reminded him of cotton candy from the fair. A wave of dizziness hit him and the dull ache of his erection intensified. He gasped for air._

_"Trip," she whispered. "Trip."_

The dream dissolved away and he opened his eyes to find T'Pol standing over him dressed in the mask, gown, and gloves. He turned away from her, blinking back tears. He wished she hadn't woken him up. He'd been so happy on that beach in his dream, pretending that none of this was happening to him.

Her throat tightened as the strength of his pain reached her through the bond. Everything in her wanted to tear her mask away and kiss away the pain. She now understood true heartbreak. Her mate laid before her in agony and there was nothing that she could do to soothe his anguish.

She glanced at his chest, frowning when she noticed a red rash just above the v of the hospital gown. Carefully, she slid her fingers over the rash. At Trip's sharp, indrawn breath, she pulled them away. She stood abruptly and walked quickly from the room toward the nearest nurse's station.

The young, dark-haired nurse looked up and smiled kindly. "Can I help you, dear?"

"My husband has developed a rash due to his illness," T'Pol replied. "I thought it prudent that you know of this new symptom."

The nurse frowned. "I'll page the doctor and I'll be right in."

T'Pol nodded and turned, then making her way back to Trip's room.

_*  *  *_

Reed sat in a quiet corner of the pub sipping his tea. Suddenly, he felt the pressure building in his nostrils. He barely had time to cover his mouth before sneezing. This earned him several stares from around the pub. He grimaced. He could hardly blame them given the current deadly pandemic spreading across the world.

He'd been experiencing sneezing and a slight fever for several days. His illness hadn't progressed any further, thus it seemed like a simple cold. It was odd that during this pandemic, so many were being diagnosed with colds. Science had managed to eliminate a majority of the known illnesses a quarter century ago.

From the Starfleet reports he'd managed to retrieve thanks to Harris's clearance, some of the cases that appeared to be the beginning stages of the disease were nothing more than a cold. What was even more odd was that blood tests revealed the markers for the disease to be present in those with colds, but the virus remained dormant.

This was the first evidence that this disease was targeted at Humans with a certain antigen, raising the possibility of biological warfare. Reed suspected it to be the Romulans' doing, given all of the run-ins that Starfleet ships had had with them over the last several months. He frowned. This prospect, while narrowing down possible spaceports the disease could have been introduced from, was troubling. If the Romulans could get past Earth security without being noticed, how safe were them from an outright invasion?


	5. Chapter 5

Trip grimaced as the itching became more and more intense by the moment. They had restrained his hands a few hours earlier to keep him from scratching at the burgeoning skin lesions on his chest that had begun as a rash. They had tried a prescribed anti-itch ointment in hopes that the medicine would soothe the irritation-an effort that had ultimately ended in failure. He'd tried several times to distract himself with memories of his favorite beach, but the annoying sensations persisted and left him unable to focus.

He heard a knock at the door and Phlox entered dressed from head to toe in quarantine gear with one of his creatures in hand. Trip groaned internally. After Human remedies had failed, Phlox had suggested that Trip try one of his creatures. The young engineer disliked the idea of a slimy, extraterrestrial animal attaching itself to him; but the itch was getting worse and was driving him up a wall. He was desperate for anything that would soothe the annoyance.

Phlox sat the creature down carefully on the bedside table and examined the lesions on Trip's chest, then took a few holophotos for his records. After he had concluded his assessment, he set the camera aside and positioned the creature on Trip's chest to cover the majority of the lesions. It took only a moment for the beast to begin its work. Trip sighed in relief as the powerful irritation was reduced to a mere tingle.

"You might experience a slight tingling sensation," Phlox explained. "That's perfectly normal."

Trip nodded. "That's fine. A tingle is better than the itching by a mile."

Phlox smiled. "Naturally, naturally. I will be back in an hour to check on your progress. If this larvae is still doing its job, we might be able to remove your hand restraints."

"Thanks, Doc." Trip would never again doubt Phlox's odd remedies.

Phlox then exited the room.

*  *  *

Reed's brow furrowed in concentration as he studied the data Phlox had sent him following a thorough analysis of the identified viral agent. The Denobulan had almost missed it. This caused Reed to wonder if the virus was in fact transmitted through food or water and had merely been undetectable.

He suggested as much when he spoke with Harris an hour later. The man paused in thought.

"It's possible," Harris agreed. "Perhaps you should send me a copy of his findings. We'll need to test the water and food supplies again and knowing exactly what we're looking for will certainly help."

Reed nodded. "Now that we have a possible cause we need to identify those responsible. If we allow them to go free, they'll only find other ways to kill us off."

"Keep up the good work, Lieutenant."

The screen in front of him went black. He stood and exited the hotel room, headed for the hospital. He was worried for Hoshi, but the news of Phlox's discovery boded well. Hopefully the Doctor would be able to synthesize a vaccine before it was too late-for Hoshi and for Trip.

*  *  *

Phlox, true to his word, had come in to check on Trip an hour later. The larvae had soothed the itching, but the lesions only worsened. For a brief time, Phlox feared Trip was having an allergic reaction to the creature. However,blood tests eliminated that possibility quickly. That only left one other prospect: the disease was progressing more rapidly than Phlox had anticipated. No new symptoms had occurred for two days, so there was at least that blessing. The young man was suffering enough without more pain on top of that.

It was beginning to look like he'd have the vaccine long before Trip's system gave in to the lethal virus. Some good news for everyone involved, most especially T'Pol. Her Pa'Nar Syndrome was rapidly decaying her neural pathways and certainly the stress of the situation wasn't helping. Phlox shook his head and returned to his work.

*  *  *

T'Pol had forced herself to leave Trip's bedside for fear of keeping him awake with her constant worrying over his condition. The barriers she'd once erected to block her mind were significantly more fragile due to the disease that was rapidly destroying her control.

She browsed the gift shop tucked away in a small corner on the main floor of the hospital, attempting to keep her mind occupied. Several items held the promise of keeping her attention for the remainder of her stay here, one in particular. She picked of the data pad still wrapped in plastic with shaking hands.

Feeling the panic bubbling to the surface, she closed her eyes and forced herself to focus on the slow, steady hum of the oxygen recyclers. She synced her breathing with that rhythm and soon successfully pushed the panic away, at last achieving calm.

She started when she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find a young brunette woman gazing at her in confusion and concern. "Are you all right, ma'am?"  
T'Pol inclined her head, releasing a breath. "Yes. I'm fine."

The young woman smiled kindly. "I understand. It's difficult to see a loved one ill. It tests all of us."

Normally, T'Pol would have brushed off the comment and hidden her true purpose for being in this hospital. However, something in the woman's eyes created a calm that she couldn't achieve alone. The empathy from another being...to know that someone understood...the thought was oddly comforting.

"It does indeed," T'Pol replied. She paused. "I am T'Pol."

"A pleasure to meet you, T'Pol. I'm Angela." She glanced at the item in T'Pol's hand. "Is there anything else that I can help you find?"

T'Pol shook her head. "No, thank you." She then followed Angela to the counter and purchased the data pad.

"You have a good day, ma'am, and I hope that your friend gets well."

T'Pol nodded, a barely noticeable smile turning up the corners of her lips. "Thank you."

She turned to leave the shop when it hit her. Trip's thoughts and emotions, which had been a constant buzz in the back of her mind, were gone. She froze. The realization struck her hard and she gave in to her first instinct. She ran through the lobby and toward the elevator, ignoring the protests of those she shoved past. Once inside she repeatedly pressed the '3' button and at last the doors closed. A moment later, the lift began its ascent.

She rocked back and forth from foot to foot, wringing her hands as the tears began in the corners of her eyes. The moment the lift doors opened, she bolted down the corridor to Trip's room. She was about to step inside when a hand grasped her arm and she turned. Archer's gaze locked with hers, his expression somber.

Bile rose in her throat and the panic returned full force. She jerked her arm from his grip and stumbled into the room. The bed was empty. She fell to her knees and held her face in her hands as the tears streamed silently down her cheeks. She felt the hands on her shoulders this time, easing her into standing position. A hand then grasped her chin and forced her gaze to meet his.

"He's not..." Moisture gathered in the corners of his eyes. "He's in a coma. They've moved him to the ICU."

*  *  *

T'Pol entered cautiously wearing the mask and gloves. She was surprised to see a woman already sitting at Trip's bedside. The woman looked up as she approached.

"Are you one of the nurses?" the woman asked.

T'Pol shook her head. "No. I am T'Pol, one of Trip's former colleagues."

The woman's eyes widened slightly. "Well-it's a pleasure ta finally meet ya. He talks about ya a great deal." She extended a gloved hand. "I'm Catherine, Trip's mother."

T'Pol's eyebrows arched in surprise. If she had considered the matter, she would have realized that of course his mother would want to see her ill son and that eventually the two of them would meet. What came as a larger surprise was that Trip had spoken to his mother about her in great detail, as well, it seemed.

T'Pol grasped the woman's hand in the familiar Earth greeting. "He has spoken of you as well."

Catherine paused. "Have you spoken to the Doctor today? Have they made any more progress with the vaccine?"

"I have not spoken with Phlox personally, but Jonathan has informed me that he has nearly completed the vaccine. In a short time, it will be ready to administer."

The blonde-haired woman nodded. "That good ta hear."

T'Pol laid a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder as she had once done with Trip. Her gaze locked with Catherine's and said firmly, "Trip is strong. He will be well soon."

Catherine grasped T'Pol's hand and T'Pol heard the certainty as she said, "I always had faith that he'd pull through. The Lord protects all of his children until it's time for us to come home. My boy still has a great deal more ta do in this world."

The conviction in her voice was so powerful that T'Pol found herself again longing for the strength of faith that Humans placed in their Creator. It was strange how belief in an untouchable, unseeable force was enough to unite nations.

The two women sat for a long period of time, both watching anxiously for the slightest movement or sign of consciousness. T'Pol paused for a moment before bowing her head and closing her eyes to offer a silent plea to Trip's deity.  _'Please return him to full consciousness as healthy and strong as he was before falling ill.'_

*  *  *

Reed entered Hoshi's room and stumbled toward her bedside, unshed tears gleaming in his blue-gray eyes. The breathing machine controlled her every exhalation and inhalation, pumping life into her dying body, willing her to hold on. The sight of her inner elbows, bruised and purple from the multiple IVs that had punctured the delicate porcelain skin, caused a lump to form in his throat. Seeing his strong life partner so weak and so helpless was almost more than he could bear.

"Please don't leave me, my darling. I'm lost without you. I couldn't go on if you were gone. Please," he pleaded.

*  *  *

T'Pol, Reed and Phlox strode down the corridors of the _Enterprise_  toward Sickbay, Phlox carrying the case containing the vaccine.

"You are certain you wish to be the test subject?" T'Pol queried.

Reed nodded. "I've never been more certain of anything."

The three at last reached Sickbay and Phlox began preparing the hypo as Reed from a seat on a nearby biobed.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Reed's brow arched in surprise and he smiled kindly. She'd changed since she left, though if it was in spite of her time among humans or because of it he didn't know. He could certainly see why Trip found her so alluring. Her act of human gratitude was still rare and so carefully gifted that he was drawn back to the many dreams he'd had of them together. If he wasn't so in love with his wife, those fantasies might have again tempted him.

He felt the sharp prick and heard the sharp hiss before he even saw Phlox coming. The sensation subsided quickly and was replaced by vertigo. Two hands wrapped his arms to hold him steady.

"Dizziness is an unfortunate side effect," Phlox said. "It's your body adjusting to the altered invading pathogen. Lie down and it should pass soon."

With Phlox's and T'Pol's assistance, Reed laid back on the biobed and closed his eyes. Phlox then dimmed the lights, the two stepped away and Phlox closed the curtains around the area.

"I will return in 12 hours," she whispered.

She then exited said they would the intention of sending a few messages, doing some research, and catching up on some sleep.

*  *  *

Archer entered the room, wearing the typical quarantine gear. He'd always hated the sparkling clean, white environment of hospitals and staying with his father in one of them during the worst of his father's illness had only strengthened that dislike.

He spotted Catherine keeping vigil at Trip's bedside wearing the worn silver cross around her neck. Occasionally, she'd clasp it tightly and close her eyes as she offered a prayer for Trip's life.

It was rare in today's times to see a devout Christian. Most placed their faith in scientology, which was not a new concept by any means. It had cropped up somewhere in the early 21st century as a means for scientists to claim faith in something greater.

Archer shook his head. Scientology wasn't a religion. Science had no place in faith. The two were fundamentally different-polar opposites, in fact. Science sought a logical, visible explanation for everything while faith was achieved with visual proof.

Faith is what he'd had when  _Enterprise_ had first been launched. Now as he watched his best friend dying in a hospital bed, he couldn't summon one ounce of hope. Phlox himself had said he may not have the vaccine ready in time.

His heart ached for the aged woman in front of him. She had no idea that this could be the last time she ever saw her son alive.

*  *  *

T'Pol was awakened six hours later by Phlox's voice over the comm. "T'Pol to Sickbay."

She slid out of bed hurriedly, slid into her robe and tied it closed. She then pressed her thumb to the button. "On my way." She then it will rushed out her door and toward Sickbay.

*  *  *

T'Pol arrived in Sickbay to find Phlox injecting the contents of a hypo into Reed's neck. Reed looked fairly disoriented.

"What has occurred?" she asked.

The two looked up. "He had a reaction to the vaccine."

T'Pol's brows furrowed in a concern. "Are you well, Lieutenant?" she queried.

"I think so," he replied. "Just still a little off balance."

Phlox pulled out a new standard issue handheld scanner to study the progress of the medication. The Denobulan's brow furrowed. He set aside the scanner and reached for a hypo. "Mr. Reed, I'll need a blood sample."

Another sharp prick and he felt as slight pressure at the injection site as the blood filled the tube. Just as quickly, Phlox removed the hypo and the pressure was gone.

"I'm going to perform a few tests. The results should be ready in three hours," Phlox added.

*  *  *

T'Pol re-entered Sickbay to find Reed still resting and Phlox still in his office. She strode quietly past Reed and knocked softly on the window to Phlox's office. He glanced up and motioned for her to enter.

"What have the tests revealed?"

Phlox grinned. "As I anticipated, there are traces of the pathogen in Mr. Reed's system."

T'Pol arched a curious eyebrow. "How is that beneficial?"

Phlox shrugged. "It proves my theory. However, it also means that the dosage of the vaccine will be dependent on the blood type. If a patient receives that the one that dosage, he or she will have a reaction similar to Mr. Reed's."

"Not fatal, I assume?"

Phlox paused. "In extremely rare cases, perhaps. But generally not."

"What of those who have no discernable symptoms, but carry the disease?" she questioned.

"A mild dose shouldn't do any serious harm so long as the side effects are treated quickly."

She nodded. "Is it ready for distribution?"

"I don't see why not."

*  *  *

Valdore scowled. News had come from his source on Earth that the Humans had found a cure. The virus had not killed nearly as many as they had anticipated and he knew that the Praetor wouldn't be pleased.

"How did they find a cure so quickly?" he asked.

It was a rhetorical question and his contact knew better than to answer.

"We will need another plan," he added. Disgust was plain in his features. "I will inform the Praetor."

*  *  *

Phlox entered the room carrying the vaccine and strode toward Trip's bedside, hypo in hand. T'Pol stood gripping Trip's hand as she silently pleaded for his recovery, promising to never again leave his side. She felt so helpless as she stared down at his pale features. She shuddered at the thought of spending her remaining years without his presence.

She shook the thought from her head as Phlox pressed the hypo containing the vaccine into the side of his neck. Despite Trip's current state, she had every confidence in Phlox's healing abilities.

Phlox checked Trip's vitals to be sure there was no immediate reaction and made note of his observation.

"What is our next course of action, Doctor?" T'Pol queried.

Phlox smiled. "Now we wait."

As he left the room to inoculate others with the vaccine, she seated herself in the chair beside his bed and prepared herself for a long wait. Her eyes slowly closed and the adrenaline rush of the last few days faded, allowing sleep to claim her.

*  *  *

She awoke sometime later and glanced at the digital wall chronometer. She'd been asleep for nearly 20 hours. Her gaze then fell to Trip and her heart raced when his eyes opened and he grinned.

"Good morning to you, too, darlin'," he teased, his voice hoarse.

She fought the smile threatening to spread across her lips as the moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes. "I'm pleased to see you are well."

"For awhile there, I thought Phlox wouldn't have the vaccine ready in time."

She arched an eyebrow. "Phlox is most capable. I had no doubt that his attempts would succeed."

Trip's smile widened as he simply stared at her. "I never thought I'd get another chance at this--at us. God, you're amazing. Do you know that?"

Her cheeks flushed. "You should rest and I should acquire sustenance as I have not consumed a meal in several days."

He grinned. "No rush. I'll be here when you're done."

She gazed at him thoughtfully. "Yes. Indeed you will." She kissed him on the cheek and exited the room, heading for the cafeteria.

Trip laid back and sighed, unable to wipe the crooked grin from his face. For the first time in a very long time, he was truly happy.

*  *  *

Reed hear the rustling of bedsheets and opened his eyes to see Hoshi shifting to get comfortable. His gaze became misty as he realized the vaccine had worked and she was waking from her coma. Their gazes locked.

"Malcolm? Is that you?" she whispered hoarsely.

He smiled. "I'm here, love. I'm here."

"What happened?"

He gripped her hand tightly. "You were sick, but Phlox found a cure."

Her memory returned and she recalled Trip being one of the first to fall ill. "Trip? Is he--?"

Reed grinned. "He's fine. T'Pol's with him as we speak."

A tired smirk crossed her lips. "I always knew there was more between them than friendship. Why else would she travel all this way to see him?"

Reed brushed several stray hairs from her eyes and kissed her forehead. "You should rest, love."

"'Kay," she replied with a yawn. "Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Always," he whispered. "Always."


	6. Chapter 6

_A week later_

T'Pol entered the room as Trip was removing the hospital gown. She froze, her cheeks tinged green with embarrassment.

"You can come in," he offered.

She stepped the rest of the way in, closed the door and turned away to allow him at least some privacy.

Trip ginned as he slid his underwear on. "No need ta be embarrassed. It's nothing you haven't seen before."

The flush of her cheeks deepened at the memory of that night. The few times that she'd shared a bed with her husband over the last three years, her mind had wandered back to the passion she and Trip had shared that night. It was all that had gotten her through the bland and often times brutal matings.

"Do you require assistance?" she queried, her voice trembling slightly.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to find Trip inches from her. Without a moment's hesitation, he cupped her cheek and kissed her.

Her eyes slid closed and her brows arched in surprise. Slowly, the surprise faded and she responded to his demanding kiss. She felt as though she were in the midst of a windstorm and his lips on hers was the only thing keeping from being pulled into the tempest.

He trembled as the fiery sensations overloaded his senses and he almost forgot how to breathe. He moaned into her mouth, unable to help himself. The rest of the world faded around them and his entire focus was narrowed to the fire she was stirring inside of him.

Several long moments later, he pulled away to gather his wits.

T'Pol touched her fingers to her lips as the electricity lingered.

"That was--"

"Unexpected," she finished.

He swallowed. "Amazing."

"Perhaps our bond intensified the sensations."

His eyes widened. "If that was kissing..." He shuddered at the thought of making love to her. The sex had been incredible before, as had the kissing; but kissing her had never made him feel this out of control.

The corners of his lips turned up so slightly as not to be noticeable to someone who didn't know her better. "An exploration can certainly be arranged."

The twinkle of mischief in her gaze caused him to chuckle. The two heard a knock on the door and turned. "Ya can come in," Trip shouted.

The door opened, allowing Malcolm, Hoshi, Archer and Catherine to enter. Malcolm and Archer each shook Trip's hand, slapping him on the back. Hoshi and Catherine then each hugged him.

"I'm glad ta see you're feelin' better, honey," Catherine gushed. "Your father's been so worried."

Trip's brow furrowed. "Speaking of which, how is dad?"

"He's had his good days and his bad days," she replied with a sigh. "But overall, he's recovering a lot quicker than the doctors expected."

Trip nodded. "That's good ta hear."

The group turned at the sound of another knock to find a young ensign standing in the doorway with a PADD in hand. "I have a message for T'Pol," she explained.

T'Pol extended her hand and the woman placed the PADD in her hand, then exiting the room. T'Pol's brow furrowed as she perused the contents. "Koss's vessel was destroyed in an engagement with the Romulans. There were no survivors."

Catherine paused. Her son had told her all about what had happened on Vulcan, though getting it out of him had taken a great deal of coercion. From what she remembered, Koss was the man that had been selected for T'Pol at birth. She felt sympathy for T'Pol's loss; but at the same time, she was glad that her son would have another chance. She'd seen it in the Vulcan woman's eyes from the moment she'd stepped into the room. This T'Pol loved Trip as much as Trip loved her. "I'm sorry for your loss," Catherine offered somewhat blandly.

T'Pol glanced up from the PADD. "Your sentiments are appreciated, but unnecessary," she countered. "A rift has existed between us over the entire course of our marriage and we went our separate ways following the birth of our daughter, T'Lin."

Her gaze returned to the PADD and her eyebrows arched high as she read the remainder of the message. "His mother intends to take custody of our daughter."

Archer's brows furrowed. "Are you going to fight her?"

"Of course," T'Pol replied matter-of-factly.

Catherine smiled and nodded her approval. "I heard on the news that they're opening the airports in the next three days for interstellar flights to and from Vulcan."

Trip nodded. "That should give us plenty of time to pack."

"Your offer is appreciated, but not necessary," T'Pol protested.

He grinned. "Ya stayed with me when ah was real sick. The least ah can do is help ya get your daughter back."


End file.
